


Eleison

by saltandlimes



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, M/M, Withdrawal, gratuitous description of hux's daily life, ok this is even sadder than its companion piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:49:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7698880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandlimes/pseuds/saltandlimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kylo leaves on a mission, Hux begins to fall apart. Because he needs Kylo, and there's nothing else Kylo has ever wanted.</p><p>Companion piece to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7642882">At the Mercy</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Eleison

**Author's Note:**

> This is really sad. There is no way around that. 
> 
> It would not exist without [artyaourter's](http://artyaourter.tumblr.com/) help, because she is incredible. Also, the art is hers.

Fingers prod at his lips. Hux moans a little, too tired. It's not time to wake up. Is it? A hand strokes along the side of his face, and he opens his mouth. Fingers press inside. Hux licks lazily over them, fuzzy and disoriented. They pull away, and he swallows convulsively around the smooth tablets they leave behind. 

“You forgot to set the chrono again, Hux.”

Oh. Kylo. He rolls out of bed, stumbles to the fresher. There are footsteps behind him and the sonic turns on as he steps inside. He shivers a little, hugs his arms to himself. Needs the warmth that's bound to appear in a few minutes. 

And by the time he steps out, it's there. He grabs tight to the edge of the sink, steadies himself for a second as the world resolves itself around him. What comes next? He's not sure.

“Toothbrush, Hux.” He snatches it up, hands too fast now, fumbles with the cap to the paste. Too many sparks though him, bubbling up, desperate to somehow get out. Toothbrush in mouth, and he swipes away the taste of must and old come and sweat. He spits.

Deep breath in, and he's trembling, unfolding. Grabs the cream he's found and smooths some over the shadows under his eyes. They disappear and Hux smiles at himself in the mirror, lip twitching a little. Better. Good enough, at least. 

***

He glances over at Kylo. The bridge is quiet, two hours into first shift, and Hux doesn't need to be here. Does he? Kylo shakes his head, a miniscule jerk, and Hux sighs. Straightens his spine and feels the ache in his hands. His head is starting to hurt.

Why does he need to be here anyway?

There's a drumbeat pulse behind one eye, throbbing a little with every step of his slow, slow circuit of the bridge. And every tap of his heels sends something shivering up his back, a spike through the base of his neck. How can it not be time yet?

Phasma beckons him over to where she stands, staring at trooper evals. Apparently there's some sort of problem with the newest set of TIE pilots. Hux stares at the screens. Why do they even need more pilots? Especially ones with scores this abysmal. He says as much to Phasma, and she snickers. 

Hux stares. 

He was being serious. 

And then Kylo's coming up next to them, a tiny flick of his head, the smallest of shrugs. Finally, finally. He nods to Phasma. He's sure she'll work it out. She always does. And then he's handing off the con, Mitaka today, and he needs the bridge experience anyway. 

The wait once he gets to his ready room seems interminable. And he'd pace, but every step still throbs through him, pain nestling at the corner of his forehead in a bright circle. So instead he leans against his desk. Props himself up on his hands, clenched so hard his hands ache in time to his head. And it's not enough. Can't hold himself up, and he slides down the side to curl up, knees to chest. 

The door slides open. 

“I think you lost track of time.” Voice tight, and what is he saying? He could have watched the chrono just as well himself. But it's easy to let Kylo do it, to focus on reports and the tremble of his fingers curled around his cup of caf, and ignore the the chrono until Kylo nods, lets him know it's time. 

“Did I?” Hux doesn't answer. It's all he can do to stay hunched against the side of the desk, stay here and not shuffle forward on his knees. Kylo smiles at him, crooks a finger, and Hux grabs the desk to pull himself up. The few steps over to Kylo make him feel a little sick, empty stomach wrenching dizzily. 

Did he eat today?

When he gets there, Kylo runs a hand over the back of his neck, pushes strong fingers into the corded muscles there. Hux sighs. And then Kylo is pulling out a cigarette from somewhere in his robes, setting it against Hux's parted lips. The flick of the lighter, the hiss is loud in the ready room. 

Hux breathes in.

And it's sweet, coating his mouth. He tips his head back, blows smoke up to the ceiling as Kylo wraps a arm around his waist, steadies him. The next drag is longer, tip flaring read in the dim room. He leans into Kylo's hands. 

“Wanted this, did you Hux? Waiting for me, waiting for me to give you what you need.” Hux scoffs around the cigarette still perched on his lips. He wasn't waiting for Kylo. It's just convenient, Kylo keeping an eye on the time for him. And there's a brush of lips across his cheek, a lick at his neck. The headache is disappearing. 

***

“Dinner time, Hux.” He struggles up from his desk, stubs out the cigarette Kylo brought him when he returned from training. And then he's wandering into the fresher, pulling up his jacket. And Kylo's behind him, fingers dragging over the soft curve of Hux's belly to pet at the red skin over his stomach. A pinch, a giggle from behind him, and Hux flushes, skin crawling. 

“Not everyone can be like you, Ren.” His voice is clipped, and there are sparks in him, fingers trembling. Ren makes a shushing sound at the edge of his chin, breath whispering along Hux's skin. 

“I like it.” He runs a hand down Hux's stomach, pulls out the antiemetic. Digs his fingers in a little as he sets it on Hux's skin. “I like you like this, Hux. Such a pretty boy, standing here for me, letting me do this for you. What a nice gift, letting me help you.” Hux nods. Yes, yes it is. 

***

Hux rummages under his cabinet. Kylo is still training, and he wants to go to sleep. But he can't find the right bottle. Ren must have it. He sighs. Stands up, mind buzzing. Strips down, and he's cold, wants another cigarette. But Ren has those too. 

But that's fine. 

He'll just wait for Ren. 

***

“I'm going away for a few days. Snoke has sent me a new mission. A week, maybe two.” Hux nods absently. He's bright with energy, eyes flying over his datapad, and he doesn't want to talk to Kylo right now. Kylo huffs in frustration. Pulls the datapad from Hux's fingers. 

“What was that for, Kylo?”

“Are you even listening to me?” Hux shrugs, fingers tapping at the table now they're free of their hold on the datapad. 

“Yes. You're leaving. I'll see you when you get back.” He makes a grab for his datapad, arm shooting out. But he misses, can't quite seem to grab at it. Kylo heaves a breath, catches his hand. Then he's pressing it into Hux's grasp. Stroking fingers over Hux's knuckles. Hux smiles thinly at him. But there's still fire in his veins, and he needs to get back to making good use of it. 

***

“Two.” Hux taps his fingers against the commissary window, shifts his weight back and forth as he waits for the PO to grab them from under the dest. 

“If I might be so bold, I thought you'd quit, sir.” Hux quirks an eyebrow. PO Alinard is lucky. They've known one another for too long for Hux to come down on him. Then Alinard's words filter through. 

“Quit? No...” But he supposes Kylo has been getting them for him lately. Supposes he hasn't been by in weeks, and what is Alinard to think? He sweeps the packs of cigarettes off the counter, nods. His chrono is about to beep. Time to get back to the bridge. 

***

Hux paces across the bridge. It's as though the bridge crew has gotten more incompetent recently. And he knows that can't be right, but on the other hand, what other explanation is there? He twists his hands together behind his back. He wonders if he can duck off the bridge again, shake a cigarette out from the pack. Let it flood through him, focus and light.

But he's already had a few this morning.

And there's Mitaka anyway, another inane report for him to review. Another absurd moment that he shouldn't have to deal with. And before he can stop himself, he's barking out a response, too sharp. Shattered glass in his voice pouring out from the hum in his veins. Mitaka shrinks in on himself, but Hux can't feel bad about it.

The man is absurdly diffident sometimes. 

And he's scribbling something across the board in front of him, shaky signature. Because he can't get his hands to calm down, and why is Mitaka staring now? Hux swallows around the stale taste in his mouth. Makes a shoeing motion with his hands. 

He definitely needs another cigarette.

***

It's late, and Hux's mind won't settle. He stumbles into his quarters, hands fumbling across the access panel. He's thrown up twice today, can't keep anything down, and all he can taste is bile. His throat feels scoured. 

His clothes fall to the floor. He should put them away. He should. 

But instead, he wanders into the fresher. Hands wrap around his dick as he takes a piss. His face looks strange in the mirror. Drawn up and pale. Thinner than he remembers. Hux stares at his cheekbones for a second. Then he's turning, sliding the door all the way shut to look in the full length mirror that covers the inside. 

Did his hips always stick out that far?

He traces trembling fingers down the ladder of his ribs. Thunk, thunk, thunk. And he doesn't remember the hollow below them like this. The way the only soft part of him is the curve of his belly – and why won't that go? His stomach twists.

Did he eat today?

He doesn't think so, can only remember being curled over the toilet in the fresher off his ready room. Wiping his lips with a scrap of something as Phasma knocked on the door, came to discuss training for the week. Taking a grateful sip of caf to fill his mouth with stale heat and wash away the taste of sick and wrong. He circles his waist with narrow fingers. It seems smaller, and the way his belt rested too low all day, settled around his hips in a loop of too-obvious black, it only confirms what he can see in the mirror. 

Hux sighs. And pulls open the cabinet to rustle inside. He's getting low. He'll have to open a new bottle soon, new dreams to slide down his throat as he lays himself in bed. He gulps water with the pill, suddenly thirsty. And then he wanders back into the bedroom, head swimming. Feet that seem strangely boney slap against the floor. He clambers into bed. 

And waits there. It's cold, so cold without the furnace of Kylo's broad shoulders beside him. He pulls his hands inside the coverlet. Curls on one side and shakes a little. His eyes are drooping. And he's falling, spiraling down into oblivion. Grateful. 

***

He stalks onto the bridge, the pasty taste of a nutrition shake still slicking his mouth. Why did he even try to drink it? He can't remember now. There's too much shimmer inside him, and maybe he miscounted this morning. Did he grab three tablets when he woke up? He could have.

He grabs the cup Unamo holds out, nods to her. It's hot in his hands, and he wonders, just for a moment, what it would feel like if he tipped the caf over himself. If the burning inside would meet scalded flesh, and he'd fall apart into a million scattered and melted pieces. 

He wonders if it would feel good. 

There's a tap at his shoulder and he spins around. Pries his fingers off of the mug to reach out, tug the datapad from someone's black gloved fingers. Why doesn't he have his gloves too? It's irrelevant. Non-essential. 

“Thank you, Thanisson.” He nods. 

“Um. Sir? It's. Um... It's Mitaka.” Hux looks up. Mitaka? Oh. “Are you alright, Sir?” 

“Lieutenant!” Hux snaps, and Mitaka looks adequately chastened. Hux is fine. He just wasn't paying attention. He's fine. 

***

His eyes feel gummy, stopped up. He waits for a second, wonders why there's no thumb at his lips, no one pressing careful fingers inside his dry mouth. But then he remembers. Kylo isn't here. And he rolls to the side, fumbles on his dresser. Hands sluggish as he shakes it, molasses slow. Nothing fall into his palm. There's no comforting rattle, no slight weight in an half-curled hand. 

He pries his eyes open.

The bottle is empty. 

“Fuck.” His voice rasps in the still air of his bedroom. Hux swings his feet over the side of the bed, too cold and trembling. Drags them across the floor as he stumbles to the fresher, feeling blindly at the access panel. Why didn't he notice he was almost out?

He yanks open the cabinet door, fumbles inside. Pulls out a bottle and tips is over. Nothing. Another bottle, and his hands tremble as he tugs it out of the cabinet. Shakes it.

Empty.

And where is Kylo? He'd know where they are. He'd have something. Hux grabs at another bottle. No. Wrong one. Another, and something falls over inside the cabinet. A tinkle of class, a vial spilling onto the shelf. But that doesn't matter right now. 

This one is empty too. 

Hux straightens, runs a trembling hand through his hair. 

And his feet thud too fast as he stumbles into the bedroom. His knees hit the floor hard next to his bed, and he wrenches open the drawer. It sticks a little – never opened, bare inside. And Hux slams it closed, falls to his belly to reach underneath the bed. 

Nothing. 

And where the _fuck_ is Kylo? Why is he not here? He should be here.

Hux struggles up from the floor, lightheaded, spots dancing in front of his eyes. Shoes. He needs shoes. He's halfway through tugging on the first trainer – no boots needed, he's not going to the bridge – when he looks down. Clothes. He needs those first. 

He pushes off the shoe, hands moving too fast now, frantic. Pants. Rough drag of fabric up his thighs, and he doesn't need boxers, not right now. No, he can just pull these on, just needs to cover himself. That's all. Fumbles for a jacket, athletic wear, but good enough for this. Good enough.

Shoes are on, and he pounds at the door panel. Two floors down. That's where he needs to go. 

The medbay door slides open and Hux waves away a tech. He doesn't need their help. No. He knows what he needs. Knows where to find it, and he pushes open a door. There's a nurse inside. 

“Get OUT!” And his voice is too loud, but why does that matter? She scurries away, and as soon as the door slides shut he's digging in in the cabinet. Wrong bottle. Wrong box.

There. 

He tugs off the cap frantically, fingers wrapping too tight, a nail breaking as he scrabbles against the tight seal. But then it's off, and Hux gulps down two smooth tablets. 

His chrono sounds.

He should be on the bridge. But he's here instead, unwashed, hair a mess. Shoes untied. Hands shaking as he cradles the bottle to his chest. Caresses a finger over it. And then remembers the blinking chrono. 

“Phasma?” His voice sounds cracked, dry and heaving as he coms the bridge. “Have someone cover my shift.”

“Sir?”

“Just do it, Phasma.” He snaps, cuts the com off. And he's shaking, but it's a good feeling, clean and fiery and pure, and he breathes hard through it.

***

When Kylo steps off the shuttle, there's no one there. And that's not really surprising, except...

Except he expected Hux to be here. 

And maybe he shouldn't have. Maybe things aren't as they seem. Maybe Hux hasn't even noticed that he's been gone, has simply carried on as he did when Kylo told him he was leaving on a mission. He stalks to the lift. If Hux isn't here, he'll be on the bridge. 

Kylo is going to give him a piece of his mind when he gets there.

The lift squeals as it opens onto the corridor that leads to the bridge. And there's a collective pause, a silence that falls in an already quiet room as he steps inside. Kylo looks around. 

Hux isn't there. 

Not in the corner, chatting with Phasma. Not taking reports from Thanisson. Not correcting Mitaka's navigation calculations. Not there. And this is first shift, and Hux _always_ takes first shift. Always. But he's not there. 

“Where is General Hux?” His voice booms top loud in the silence. And most of the officers on the bridge turn back to their consoles, turn away from him, shrinking away from the thunder in his yell. But Mitaka scurries over, bobbing his head. 

“Sick, Sir. Two days now.” Kylo shoves him out of the way as sweeps off of the bridge, hears a muffled yelp as Mitaka falls hard against the deck. But it doesn't matter. If Hux is sick there will be no greater surprise for Kylo, because he's certain that's not really the case. Certain he knows what he'll find when he opens up the door to Hux's quarters.

The lift takes too long, and he just wants to be there already. Wants to feel Hux's skin under his hands, wants to slide careful fingers into Hux's mouth. Wants to caress along the curve of Hux's hip, drag his hands over too-red skin on his belly. And then he's in front of Hux's door, punching the controls too hard. 

The room is dim when he steps inside. Front room dark. He crosses to the bedroom door and slides it open. 

The smell is the first thing that he notices. Sweat, thick in the air, and the sour scent of old vomit. A sickroom, indeed. He flicks the controls for the lights. When the come on, slow false daylight filtering down in low beams, the room is empty. 

The door to the fresher is ajar though, and he hears a soft moan from inside. As he crosses to it, he pulls off his gloves, cowl. The door groans as it opens. These lights go on, low and dull. 

And there's Hux. There's his beautiful General, uniform rumpled, curled on the floor. Shivering in a heap on hard tile, head too near the toilet, as though he's fallen over from retching up the little food he eats. And there's blood pooled next to him, streaked down his face. For a moment Kylo can't tell why, then he sees the nosebleed. The tears streaming down Hux's face.

It's heady. The rush that Hux's too thin body brings. Hux _needed_ him. This is what happens when Kylo isn't here. And he's never been needed like this before. Never had someone fall apart when he wasn't there. Never had someone who shook and twitched and sobbed when Kylo left for just a short time. 

And now he does. 

He kneels down behind Hux, strokes a hand across Hux's cheek. Hux groans, insensate. But tears still slip from his eyes, puddle in front of him. Kylo pets down Hux's face, releases the seal of his collar. 

“It's me, Hux. Don't worry, I'm here now. I'll take care of you. I'll always take care of you.” He slides an arm under Hux's side, wraps another around his legs. When he stands up, cradling Hux to his chest, he's too light, just skin and bones and pretty polished shoes. Hux looks up at him, eyes bleary. 

“K-Kylo?” His voice is soft, broken. “Why... why weren't... I... I needed you.” His breath hiccups out as he buries his face against Kylo's robes. And Kylo's heart races. Hux needs him, and never, never has anyone said those words to him before, admitted it to him.

“Shhh. Don't worry. I'll make everything right.” And he will. He'll put Hux back together again, broken piece upon broken piece, a perfect balancing act of stim-fed fire. He walks back into the bedroom, strips the sheets from the bed with a wave of his hand. There's something crusted on one side, and they're not fit for Hux, not for his beautiful General. 

Another wave and he's pulling a sheet across the mattress. Doesn't bother to tuck it in before he sets Hux down on the edge of the bed. Strips off the uniform, the boots, until Hux lies, pale and thin, on sheets whiter than white. 

He's so thin. 

Kylo tugs off his own robes hurriedly, watches as Hux's eyes finally focus on him. Hux gasps, tries to reach out a hand towards him. Trembles. And Kylo climbs onto the bed, gathers Hux up in his arms to card through hair that is sweat damp and matted. He drops a kiss onto the top of Hux's head and Hux moans, curls into him. 

“What happened, Hux?” And he knows, doesn't need Hux to tell him. But he wants to hear it, wants it to fall off of those beautiful lips.

“I... It's too hard without you, Kylo. Too much.” And Hux sounds more coherent now, if still wrong, voice too quiet, twisted. Kylo pulls a bottle out of his robes with the Force, shows it to Hux. 

“Have you had these today?” Hux shakes his head. 

“Couldn't find them. Took some from the medbay days ago but they weren't enough.” Kylo shakes two out, holds them in a clenched fist. Hux strains toward it, but Kylo's got a hand wrapped in his hair, tugs backward so that Hux can do nothing more than ache. 

“Do you want these?” He waves his fist a little. “Let me give them to you, Hux. You need me to help you. I will. I always will.” He fingers at Hux's mouth and Hux's lips part for his touch. Hux's tongue licks greedily over the tips of his fingers, then sucks hard after Hux swallows. Kylo smiles. 

“Very good, Hux. Don't worry. You'll feel better soon. I promise.” And he sides his hand down from Hux's mouth the run over Hux's bare skin. His ribs stand high above his stomach, flabby and even less toned than Kylo remembers. Kylo thumbs at his collarbone, at the way it rises, skeletal from Hux's chest. Hux is starting to stiffen a little in his arms, no longer a dead weight. 

He turns, looks up at Kylo. Presses his face into Kylo's neck, soft tongue licking out across Kylo's skin. And Kylo can feel the shivers that run through Hux. He circles Hux's waist this his hands and Hux groans.

“So thin, Hux. You need to eat more. I'll make sure of it.” Hux's cock is thickening, waking up with the rest of him. Kylo smiles. He can do this for Hux as well. “What do you want, dear one?” Hux makes an odd, whimpering noise at the endearment. 

“Touch me?” It's small and thin, his voice a waver, but stronger than before, stronger as his body comes alive. Kylo nods. 

At the first press of his fingers, the smoothness of his palm, Hux throws his head back against Kylo's shoulder. Kylo can't imagine what this is like, can feel the odd, disconnected nature of Hux's thoughts through the Force. The way that the only lifeline he can find is Kylo himself, and Hux is holding on to is with both hands. The way that the slip of Kylo's hand on his cock feels like the only thing real in a world of shadows that has been steadily overtaking him since Kylo left. 

And Kylo knows he can bring Hux back to reality. 

He rolls Hux's balls with his other hand, watches as Hux's eyes flutter closed on his tearstained cheeks. Watches as Hux arches up, presses himself to Kylo and thrusts into Kylo's hand at the same time. There's desperation rolling off of him, and some other time, Kylo might use that. Might make him wait, aching, while Kylo got himself off first. 

Not this time. This time he speeds his hand, twists his wrist just so, and Hux is coming in thin white lines that paint his stomach. This time Kylo doesn't deny him that little pleasure. Because this time is special. 

This time Hux needs him.

And Kylo dreams of being needed.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang with me and chat about happier things on tumblr [@saltandlimes](http://saltandlimes.tumblr.com/)


End file.
